Blackest Red

by P. T. Michelle

  My gaze swings back to Jared when he grabs my hand and quickly twirls me around, singing the song’s lyrics to “All I Want for Christmas is You”.

  What he lacks in singing skills, he makes up for it in his enthusiasm, so I grin and let him spin me. Twirling me once more, he tugs me close and stops singing. “Do you know why I keep asking you to dinner?”

  I nod. “Because I haven’t said ‘yes.’”

  Laughing, he clasps my waist and spins us in a circle, his gaze sliding appreciatively over my face. “No, it’s because you’re beautiful, intelligent, talented, and have so much potential.”

  His compliment spreads warmth across my cheeks, but as he folds his arm around me and starts to tug my body against his, the pleasant sensation of being held by him doesn’t hold any of the heat that zings all the way to my core when Sebastian just looks at me.

  And then it suddenly hits me what Sebastian meant by his “you’ll walk around with a part of me in you” comment. His spit-soaked fingers had been his primal way of not just marking me, but also showing me what he really wanted to do to me in that closet.

  An unbidden memory of his hard body pressing against me as his erection slides deep inside me sends heat shooting across my cheeks. I instantly push against Jared’s chest, needing space. Damn that infuriating man! “I um…it’s hot in here. I need to get some water.”

  “Sure, let’s get you something.” When Jared grins, then clasps my hand and starts to pull me through the crowd, I belatedly realize he thinks my comment was about him.

  I quickly follow behind him, but then twist my hand free of his, saying, “Speaking of dinner, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  He stops on the edge of the dance floor and turns to clasp my shoulders. “You said you wanted to wait until the tour is over. I’m respecting that.”

  I shake my head. “No, you don’t understand. I think it’s best if we remain colleagues. I don’t want to lose our great working relationship.”

  Frustration flickers across his face briefly, then he smiles. “A tour like this is always stressful. Add in the threatening letters and I’m sure it has you on edge.”

  “But—”

  His fingers flex against me and he shakes his head. “We’ll talk about it next week when things have settled down.” Turning, he heads for the bar, leaving me little choice but to drop the discussion for now.

  A little later, William approaches Jared and me while we’re sipping on drinks. “Congratulations, young lady. You’re a rising star.”

  I set my empty glass on the table and start to shake his hand, but he laughs and tugs me into a hug. “We’re family here at Midtown Central.” Pulling back, he drops an arm across my shoulders. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with next.”

  I grin up at him. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  “Then have Pauline send them on so we can discuss.” Shifting his gaze to his son, he continues, “I’m going to have to steal Jared away for a bit.”

  “That’s fine. I need to call it a night since I have an early day tomorrow.” I glance Jared’s way. “How about breakfast in the morning?” I really can’t delay settling things between us any longer. The bracelet pretty much pushed the issue.

  Jared’s light brown eyebrows elevate. “Don’t you have something at ten?”

  “I do, but we can meet at eight in the hotel restaurant.”

  “A meal with my favorite author? How can I refuse? Kayla has my phone.” He glances around the crowded room looking for her. “Once I get it back, I’ll make sure I don’t have an early meeting and text you.”

  Nodding, I shoo the Mackens men on. “Go talk business.”

  I check the text from Cass before I head out of the ballroom.

  Cass: Wow, I really need me a Mr. Black. He sounds deliciously raw.

  I quickly send her a response back.

  Me: That’s all I get? No thoughts? Advice? I don’t think I’ll have to worry about the stalker anymore, this man just might be the end of me. He’s so controlled and yet he plays me like some kind of sex virtuoso.

  Cass: Remind me again why this is a BAD thing?

  Me: He’s made it clear he just wants sex. He says he’s not capable of a relationship.

  Cass: That’s a load of crap. The one thing you have going for you is that he wants you. Use that to your advantage. Make him want you MORE so he loses control.

  Me: I can’t do that. I just told him there won’t BE a next time.

  Cass: If you want him, then put on your big girl panties and show him he’s not the only one with seduction skills. Let your inner-slut free, then leave him hanging. Later…if you decide to go for it, all that sex time together might be what makes him rethink his “no relationship” rule.”

  Me: Not sure if I can handle that.

  Cass: It sounds like he’s worth the risk. Broken hearts mend. Regrets fester; make sure you don’t have any.

  Me: Ugh.

  Cass: Keep me updated. *noms the popcorn*

  Me: Right now he’s probably pissed at me since I danced with Jared.

  Cass: Ooh, you do like playing with fire, don’t you, girl.

  Me: He ticked me off.

  Cass: *noms more popcorn*

  Me: And this ends your soap opera fix for the day.

  Cass: *pouts*

  I’m thankful for the short elderly couple who get on the elevator at the same time Sebastian and I do. My heart sinks when the husband hits the button for the second floor. Sebastian’s steely gaze holds mine across the tops of their silver hair. I don’t miss that they’re whispering to each other and snickering like a couple of teens. Any other time I would’ve thought it was sweet. Right now it just points out how far away Sebastian and I are, and I don’t just mean because we’re standing on opposite sides of the elevator.

  When the couple shuffles off the elevator and the doors slide closed once more, for once the absence of the Christmas music floating through the speakers is noticeable in the thick silence.

  “You openly defied me.”

  Sebastian’s voice is rough and tight, the low bass vibrating through me.

  I hold his gaze and refuse to let his intensity get to me. “What are you going to do? Spank me?”

  His nostrils flare and his hand clenches. “Are you trying to set me off, ‘cause it’s fucking working,” he grates out. “You’re two steps away from needing that safe word.”

  All I can think about is him thrusting his fingers deep inside me, then hauling me against him with just that intimate hold. God, the man’s so primal. Chill bumps spread across my skin, but I keep my expression neutral. “You deliberately left me hanging.” I shrug and lift my chin. “I guess that makes us even.”

  His stare turns icy. “I left you wanting what I’m willing to give. You gave him what I fucking want.”

  His ferocity surprises me. “Dancing isn’t sex.”

  “Depends on who’s dancing.”

  The sudden heat in his gaze reminds me of the look in the men’s eyes as they watched the girls dancing at the Sly Fox club. Their gazes were full of lust and lascivious thoughts. Okay, so he has a point. Dancing can be sexual. “Dancing isn’t having sex,” I clarify.

  His jaw tightens. “Care to place a wager on that?”

  I mentally snicker. He’s so going to crash and burn on this one. “Are you saying you want me to dance with you?”

  Striking blue eyes travel up my body, sliding along my curves, lingering on my neck before locking on my face, full of possessive intent. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  Cass’ plea for me to let go of my inner-slut gives me the perfect idea. “I’ll give you one dance.” When he takes a step toward me, victory written on his face, I hold my hand up. “On my terms.”

  His dark eyebrows pull down. “Equal terms.”

  The elevator pings, letting us know we’ve reached the floor. I straighten my spine, then step off the elevator. “One term each.”

  “Three,” he c
ounters, walking briskly beside me.

  Unlocking my door, I glance his way. “Fine. Mine will be non-negotiable.”

  He flashes a dangerous smile. “That’s the only way I operate.”

  Once Sebastian shuts my door and we’re alone in my room, I almost lose my nerve. My stomach is fluttering like crazy, twisting into knots, but I force myself to buck up. When Sebastian steps close to me once more, I point to the straight back chair by the desk. “Have a seat.”

  He looks like he’s about to say something, but I shake my head. “My term.”

  I watch him shrug out of his suit jacket, then loosen his tie and unbutton his collar before he pulls the chair closer and sits in it facing me.

  The heat of Sebastian’s piercing gaze follows my every move as I retrieve my phone from my purse, and then riffle through my suitcase looking for the extra long charging cord. My skin prickles from the intensity of his stare. To distract myself, I say in a conversational tone, “I learned a lot while I worked undercover at the Sly Fox club.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sebastian sit a little straighter. I turn away for a second so he doesn’t see me smile. “Did you read the article I wrote about it?” I ask, glancing at him.

  He nods. “I did. I was very proud of you when I saw it in the paper. Your story balanced the business investigation with the human aspects as they related to trafficking very well. It’s what you said you wanted to do. Help people. That was some excellent undercover work.”

  I didn’t expect such a thorough evaluation from him, but his words wash over me like an invigorating shower. It feels good to be appreciated. He’d just said more to me about my contribution to that article than my own editor did. After the first week, my boss, Stan, complained, constantly asking how much longer my investigation would take. I thought gathering all the information that I did, then having the follow-up interviews with the authorities after they raided the place—all within three weeks time—was pretty damn good.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly. Fiddling nervously with the cord, I hold Sebastian’s gaze as he nods. I want so badly to ask him what he’s been doing the last six months, but I’m pretty sure that probably involved more than one woman I don’t want to know about, so I keep my question professional as I plug the charger into the wall. “Have you expanded your security business any more?”

  He watches me, his attention unwavering. “I want to bring Calder into the business, but I have to find him first.”

  I glance up while I set the phone on the end of the bed. “I thought you and Calder were like brothers. Why don’t you know where he is?”

  Sebastian rubs the evening beard on his jawline, his expression darkening. “Cald didn’t handle his dad’s death well. After Jack died, he threw himself into mission after mission, never taking a break. I heard he left the Navy six months ago, but he hasn’t returned home. His father’s house just sits there, unoccupied.”

  The grooves around Sebastian’s mouth show his worry about his cousin. “He’ll come home when he’s ready,” I tell him. “He still has family here who cares about him.”

  Sebastian lifts his shoulders, but doesn’t say anything else. He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so I scroll through the songs on my phone and cue one up.

  Holding his gaze, I untie the crossover sweater, then lay it on my bed next to the phone. “The deal was one dance, so you’re going to benefit from my time at the Sly Fox.” As a sexy grin spreads across his face, I shake my head. “This will be a traditional lap dance. My term: no touching.”

  When he grunts his disapproval, I tsk. “We can’t have you breaking the terms of your contract, now can we?”

  His eyes narrow and a smile curves his lips. “My term: Come here.”

  I’m immediately suspicious. “No touching,” I remind him.

  He pulls at his tie, unraveling the knot. “I won’t touch you.” As I step in front of him, he adds, “Unless you ask me to.”

  If he touches me, all bets are off. I’m surprised he’s taking my lap dance offer so well considering he thought he’d be wrapping his arms around me the second we walked into my room.

  “Give me your wrists,” he orders quietly.

  I glance at the tie lying loosely in his hands and lift my wrists toward him. “That will make it harder for me to dance.”

  As he wraps the cloth around my wrists, he pauses, his lips thinning to a straight line. Looping the tie just behind the bangle on my wrist, he says in a low tone while he binds my wrists together. “I would never give you a bracelet like that.”

  The fluttering in my stomach from the sensation of his fingers lightly brushing against my skin ceases. “Why?”

  He concentrates on my hands while he spins the tie around and then knots it under my wrists. “Because whatever gift I give you, I’d want you to be able to wear all the time. You’re a writer and on your laptop constantly. A clunky bracelet would get in the way.” Draping the trailing ends of his tie over my hands like he’s tying a bow on a cherished present, he lifts his gaze to mine. “Congratulations on hitting the New York Times. I had no doubt you’d get there.”

  With just a few simple words, he shreds my heart. How can he pay attention to the smallest things concerning me but not want more for us? It’s baffling and heartbreaking and so damn frustrating I want to shake him, then throw myself into his arms. Instead, I say softly, “Thank you,” while determination gathers in my chest in a rising wave, giving me the nerve to go through with this dance. I have to find a way to break past his tightly held control.

  Picking up my phone, I start to click on a specific song that Yvonne, a dancer at the Sly Fox, used to teach me her moves, but Sebastian shakes his head. “If I just get one dance, I choose the song.”

  I might not plan on having sex, but I’m sure going to enjoy making Sebastian wish he was having it. When I start to refuse, he says. “My term. Phone’s in my jacket.”

  I blow out a breath and retrieve his phone, then raise my eyebrow and wait for him to tell me the title.

  “Scroll to your name in my contacts.”

  Heart thumping, I start scrolling. My excitement sinks as I pass dozens of female names. More than I want to count. More than I want to know about. By the time I reach my name, my jaw is clenched so tight I almost don’t click on it, but then curiosity has me tapping on Talia. In the notes, Sebastian had typed one phrase, Closer:NIN.

  Holy Shit! My gaze jerks to his, pulse spiking. The Nine Inch Nails song might be twenty years old, but it’s still one of the rawest primal sex songs to date.

  “Play it, Talia,” he commands, his gaze smoldering with intensity. “And dance for me.”

  Sebastian may have tied my hands, but I’m going to use what he likes seeing most—the idea of me bound and under his control—to drive him insane with want. When the music starts and the heavy, sensual beat begins to thump through me, I quickly set the toe of my right shoe on the seat between Sebastian’s thighs to throw him off. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch, but instead his dark eyebrow elevates in appreciation.

  Emboldened by the heat in his gaze, I trace my bound hands sensually over my knee and along my inner thigh, sliding my skirt halfway up.

  As the music’s first few lyrics slide out of the speakers like a raw, erotic whisper vibrating along my skin, my breathing ramps and I take a step back, offering Sebastian the full view of the long lines the sexy heels give my legs. Resting my bound wrists against my right hip, I begin to move my pelvis in a seductive sexual roll.

  The left corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks. His thoughts are written all over his face; I want to fuck you. Primal and hard. Come closer and let me show you.

  Thankful I wore my hair down, I look over my shoulder through the red curtain as I pivot in a slow, undulating circle, moving my hips and body to the arousing bass.

  Once my back is to him, I grasp the trailing ends of his tie in my hand and snap it against the outside of my upper thigh.

  When Seba
stian’s nostrils flare and his hands clamp onto his thighs, I mentally celebrate the feeling of triumph that rushes across my skin, flushing my cheeks with warmth. It makes me brave and I move closer. Swaying my hips in moves worthy of a belly dancer, I gyrate my ass just over his thighs.

  My stomach flutters with arousing desire as he unclenches his fingers and rests them, palms up just under my rear. A beat, then he’s quickly gripping the chair under him. He wants so badly to touch me; I mentally cheer that I’m working this lap dance routine like a pro.

  Holding this position isn’t easy, considering I’m only using stomach and thigh muscles, so I quickly stand between his thighs and face him. While the song’s build up is spiraling, I raise my bound wrists above my head, throw my head back, and writhe and roll my hips like I’m in the full throes of the best orgasm of my life. Smiling at his half-mast gaze and the obvious bulge in his pants, I begin to dance around his chair. Brushing my hip along his shoulder, I bend close and let my hair tickle the back of his neck.

  Once I make my way around to his right side, my mind parses out the song’s mental segues from its physical descriptions. Music can be interpreted many ways, and as the lyrics overlay sinful thoughts and actions, other emotions come racing through: despair, self-loathing, desire, yearning, need, and hopeful acceptance. Realization pulls at my heart, shifting my goal from sexually arousing Sebastian to learning if he attributes any of those emotions to himself and us.

  Just as the music ends, I lower my arms and meet his gaze, asking quietly, “Why do you want me?” The music starts up again, and the fact it’s on a repeat loop makes me even more desperate to know his answer. “Why, Sebastian?”

  He gestures to his lap, his tone low and on edge. “Sit.” When I start to lower my butt cheek to his right thigh, he shakes his head. “My term. Sit in front, facing me.”